


...And Count To Ten

by impish_nature



Series: Nightmares [2]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Amnesiac Stan, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Protective Siblings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-19
Updated: 2017-05-19
Packaged: 2018-11-02 14:53:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10946799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/impish_nature/pseuds/impish_nature
Summary: Ford wakes up in the middle of the night to an echoing scream, not knowing what is going on. All he knows is-His brother needs him.





	...And Count To Ten

**Author's Note:**

> Sequel fic to Ran’s birthday present last year (kind of). Thought it would be a good surprise for this one ♥. Happy Birthday @garrulousgibberish

“ _Sixer_!”

Ford flinched, eyes snapping open and his breathing locking as the fearful word ripped through the air. He stumbled upright, his blankets tripping him in his haste to stand, tangling tight around his ankles. His hands came up in the darkness, gripping the headboard to keep him from falling flat on his face as his mind tried to process reality into a semblance of coherency.

He fumbled for the light, scanning the room in quick darting sweeps for any danger as he put his glasses on, fingers curling around the gun beside them as the world started to click back into place, each sweep taking another notch out of the panic that had formed.

It felt like he stood there for an eternity, the gears in his mind gummed together by sleep and confusion as he tried to assemble the pieces of the puzzle falling just outside of his grasp. His mind felt lethargic, his body even more so, even as he struggled against the tide to keep his thoughts on track.

In reality he could have only stood there for a few seconds at most before the switch flicked and the dark fumbling strands of thought were suddenly lit up with realisation and shown in stark contrast.

_Sixer._

_Stan.  
Stan screamed._

He cursed himself, running for the door, feet pounding against creaking aged wood as he made quick work of the corridor, the stairs, racing as fast as he could towards Stan’s bedroom. His heartbeat pulsed behind his ear, adrenaline and anger at himself fuelling his long fast strides.

_Useless. Absolutely useless. You’ve grown complacent here, waking up so sluggishly, what’s happened to you? You took too long-  
He cried out for you, he could be hurt, or worse-_

“Stop it.” Ford’s words came out through gritted teeth as the possibilities started to pile in his mind’s eye, terrible vicious creatures from the woods, a dreaded yellow eye coming back to take his brother away from him again, that twisted sharp cackle that said he’d _lost all over again_. “Stop it, stop it, stop it-”

“Grunkle Ford?”

Ford skidded to a halt outside Stan’s room, eyes blinking unseeingly as they scanned the area before he felt am insistent tug at his trouser leg. He flinched back, eyes wide as he looked down and gave a wobbling hiss of breath. “May-Mabel.” He internally cursed again, the concern on her face flitting to guilt as he pulled himself out of her grasp without a thought. He caught sight of Dipper ready behind her, journal in hand though Ford wasn’t sure if it was to find answers they may need or to use it as a weapon. “I’m- forgive me- I didn’t mean to…” He shook his head, turning back to the door.

_There’s no time! No time!_

“I’m sorry, I need to- I heard Stan-” He growled irritated as his mouth fumbled over all the half thoughts in his head. He couldn’t explain, not fast enough, he just needed them to know and to let him get back to the task at hand. He needed to get to him, check he was OK. Need to _protect him_.

“Let’s worry about that later.” Mabel’s voice rang out, a warble of concern and worry filtering through. Ford hated it, hated that he couldn’t calm her fears or keep his head, couldn’t find it in him to come up with the right words to even pretend that he knew what he was doing.

He used to be good at this, pushing everything back and focusing. But it was so much harder now that it wasn’t just himself he had to look after, when he had to protect the kids and Stan and it all mixed up and made it so hard to _think._

_No time! No time! Need to move!_

“Yeah, we heard…”

Ford’s mind snapped back into place, his hand on the doorknob as his other hand came up to hold his gun ready. “Stay here.”

“But-!”

Ford shook his head as they both started to argue. “We don’t know what’s in there, or what’s happening- let me go in first.” The twins still argued and he growled uselessly, unable to think up anything in that moment to persuade them. “Please. Just- _please_. Stay here.”

Before they could answer, both their faces falling, he opened the door, slipping inside as quietly as the night. He stayed low, letting the light from the hallway fall across the room. His eyes adjusted slowly, piecing together the room in shades of dimming grey. A ringing silence echoed through his ears, interspersed only by a heavy panicked breathing, close to sobs at moments that broke his heart but he tried to ignore them in favour of listening for anything else that might be in the room.

A soft hiss slips towards him, rewarding him for his patience, like wind whistling through a crack in an open window. He froze, waiting, knowing that the window was tightly shut, he’d checked multiple times throughout the last week along with every other door and window, making sure nothing could get in. If anything he was sure the old one in this room was broken, ramshackle and buckled from the force that had been exerted on it recently. He was sure it wouldn’t be able to open even if they wanted it to.

Which left the more likely possibility that a creature was snarling at him, hissing out a warning at his presence.

He twisted around in short juddering motions, eyes slowly adjusting further to the gloom as he checked for any movements, any hidden spaces that he hadn’t thought to check on occasion before. But the more he listened, the more he realised there was only one place the sound was coming from.

He gulped, hand tightening around his gun as he turned back to the bed, gaze locked to the small space that was visible between the bottom and the floor, getting ready to crouch and throw himself under at whatever had scared, or worse, _hurt_ his brother.

_Stan! Check on Stan! Ask Stan what it is!_

The words slipped through the concentrated bubble, reminding him of the reason for even being in the room in the first place. He had been so focused on eliminating the danger, knowing to stay quiet, to stay low, his survival instincts had kicked in, driving all other thoughts out. He wasn’t even sure he could get any words out if he wanted to in that moment, his entire body now locked in an internal battle between removing the threat and checking up on his brother.

The hissing from before became more pronounced, though just like his eyes adjusting to the gloom everything came together in sudden clarity that left him winded, yet giving him back his voice in one fell swoop.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m sorry-”

It was a painful mantra that Ford had taken as a soft hissing through the stillness, pausing only for hiccupping breaths and stuttering chokes of pure anguish. His head snapped upwards the realisation, focusing on his brother. Stan’s eyes were wide open but staring out blankly, horror and despair lacing through his expression and tearing Ford’s heart to ribbons as he watched him sit frozen upright, one hand clutching for dear life into the blankets wrapped around his legs.

The other was tight around his shoulder, clenching and unclenching in the material of his shirt.

“Stan? Stan, can you hear me?” Ford stood up straight, arms at his sides in what he hoped was a placating and reassuring movement.

Stan flinched at the noise but otherwise didn’t respond in any way to show he’d seen him, eyes still staring into the middle distance. Instead he hunched inwards, the hand at his shoulder pulling inwards as if he was trying to hold himself together, trying to stop himself from falling apart at the seams as his breathing quickened and his words grew louder.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to- please, _please_ , Sixer. I’m so _sorry_.”

Ford blinked, hand outstretched to comfort him, but apprehensively lost in the moment. It felt like he’d just woken up again, listless and confused and absolutely nothing making sense other than the fact that his brother had shouted for him-

And that’s when it hit him.

He hadn’t been shouting for him.

_A nightmare. He had a nightmare.  
He’s still having it._

“Hey, Stan.” Ford shuffled closer slowly. He knew he had to tell the kids, make sure they didn’t do anything reckless and dive in the room but he couldn’t seem to focus on them, not when Stan so desperately needed him. “Hey, bro, whatever it is, it’s OK, I promise. You’re safe, everything is OK…”

Stan’s breathing stuttered, a warbled choke of a sob echoing out across the room as his head curled inwards, his knees coming up to greet him. The arm that wasn’t wrapped around him, came up to cover his ear as if to keep Ford’s words out as he helplessly watched from the side-lines.

_He doesn’t want you here. He doesn’t want to hear it.  
No! He wouldn’t leave me in this state! He’s still stuck there._

A night that felt like eons ago reared up inside his mind. When the monsters from beyond the portal had invaded his nightmares and the real world hadn’t felt safe when he’d returned. When absolutely nothing he did seemed to bring him out of the downwards spiral that his mind kept dragging him into.

That night.

When Stan had taken the plunge, knowing full well that Ford might have turned him away, raged and ranted at him and torn him asunder. That all his efforts might have been met with derision.

And yet still he had helped him.

Still he had stayed and brought him back from the brink, even while they were in the midst of all their heated arguments.

He hadn’t been able to sit and watch that happen.

And Ford wasn’t about to let Stan go through that alone either.

_What did he do? What did he do to help that would help him now?_

His thoughts spun, trying to recall exactly what it was he had done to put him at ease. He had taken things slowly, let Ford set the pace and always stayed in his field of vision. He glanced back over at his brother, whose head now rested on his elbow, propped up on his knee but back to staring unseeingly outwards.

Ford winced, his mind coming up short, cutting the thoughts off at the root. He couldn’t walk slowly and surely in Stan’s path if he wasn’t aware he was even there. Plus he couldn’t physically ground him like Stan had with a hand to the shoulder, not without making himself known first. He knew in himself that if he was touched in Stan’s position he’d lash out, kick and fight and flee whatever had suddenly taken hold of him.

And so he took a step back, watching helplessly as his mind flailed uselessly.

_I’m no good at this._   
_Stan knew exactly what to do, what to say._   
_…What use am I?_

Stan whimpered, the mantra still circling, bringing Ford back to his senses. His expression grew steely, his hands tightening into fists as the panicked twisting spiral left him just as quickly as it had arrived.

_Doesn’t matter. Just do what you can. That’s all you can do.  
Help him. Doesn’t matter how. Just help him._

Ford nodded, deciding not to think and just _do_. He spun around, muscle memory going through the motions of what he would do if he had a nightmare, and flicked the light switch on.

Light blossomed above them, bright and white and slightly blinding against the gloom. Ford couldn’t help but wince, covering his eyes for a brief second. He shook his head, scolding the involuntary action, moving his hands to still shield but let him see, as he turned back to the bed. His mind calmed slightly when his efforts seemed to have had an effect, when he saw that Stan’s mouth had closed with a snap and his eyes were now gazing around, narrower and clearer than when they had been glazed and gleaming in the darkness.

“Stan? Can you hear me?”

Ford winced as Stan’s eyes locked on him, gaze sharp and focused though no less confused. His heart sunk into his stomach, wondering if it was one of those moments, when all of Stan’s memories had deserted him again, leaving him fumbling in the darkness in more ways than one.

“S-Sixer?”

Ford gave a heavy sigh of heady relief at the word, his shoulders relaxing as he smiled soothingly and nodded. “Yeah, it’s me, Stan. I’m just here to help, OK?” The smile dropped as Stan’s breathing hitched again, his lip wobbling as he continued to stare at him. “Hey, hey, come on Stan, it’s OK. You had a nightmare, that’s all, it’s all going to be alright.”

“No, it’s not.” Stan hiccupped, his head shaking as he went back to staring out across the room, unable to continue looking over at him. “It’s never going to be alright again and it’s all my fault. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Sixer-”

“ _Stan_.” Ford stumbled forward, watching as Stan curled in on himself again, shielding himself from Ford as he came closer as if waiting for a blow. His gaze found him again though once he was near, eyes nervous, shamefaced and distraught.

“Is it really you, Sixer?”

“Of- of course it is.” Ford sat down beside him in the bed, watching as he slowly unfurled, body language still mistrustful though somehow hope was winning out. “I’m right here, just like I said I’d be. Right where you need me.” He tried to smile again as Stan’s hand came out slowly towards him, hesitant and shaking. But before he touched him, he pulled himself back, tightening the hand back around his shoulder as words slipped through again.

“How? How are you here?” Stan’s lip wobbled again and before Ford could answer, the tears started to fall and he couldn’t help but continue, almost back to the earlier rambling chant. “God, Sixer, I swear- I swear I didn’t mean to-”

“Shh, it’s OK, shh.” Ford couldn’t bear it anymore, wiping the tears away best he could as he continued. “I’m here, that’s what matters. I’m right here. Whatever it is we’ll get through it, you and me. You just need to let me help.” He kept up the motions, wiping away any tears that fell as he kept speaking, letting Stan take stock, his eyes wide and searching as if finally coming to entirely.

Stan’s hands came upwards slowly, tightening on Ford’s arms before covering his hands with his own, a steady breath leaving him in a stuttering gasp.

“Y-you feel real.”

Ford let a rumble of a laugh leave him, ignoring the ice slipping down his spine at Stan’s disbelieving tone. “That’s because I am real, knucklehead.”

Stan shook his head, eyebrows furrowed as his breathing started to pick up the pace again. “No. No, you can’t be. This isn’t real, it can’t be real. You’d never- I just _pushed you_.” His voice cracked, his breathing quickening until it strangled his words.

Ford moved quickly, seeing the spiral from the outside looking in and did the only thing he could think to at that moment, hands falling heavy on Stan’s shoulders just like he remembered Stan doing for him. Stan’s eyes shot back to his, his breathing still out of his control but at least back in the room with him.

“Stan, deep breaths.” He squeezed Stan’s shoulders as his hands followed, coming up to Ford’s arms again to ground him further into the present. “That’s it, now count with me, OK? One…” He took a deep breath in. “Two…” He let the next word out on the exhale, nodding as Stan followed suit. “That’s it, now count with me.”

“Th-three…” Stan licked his lips as he tried his best, fingers clenching in Ford’s coat as he went. “Four…”

“That’s it. You’re doing brilliantly.” Ford nodded, continuing the next set of numbers. “Keep in up, you can do it. Just stay with me.”

“Nine… Ten.” Stan seemed to sag forward with the last word, falling into Ford’s arms that he instantly tightened around him, one hand going to rub his back and the other running through his hair.

“See? It’s fine, I promise you everything is fine.” Ford felt more than heard the noise of dissent that rumbled up at his words. “Shh, I mean it, Stan. Whatever your nightmare was about, we’ll work through it, you just have to trust me and let me in.”

“I-I… Why? Why are you doing this?”

The words were so heartbroken, so lost and hopeless that Ford had to pull away, had to see him for himself. “Stan?”

“I hurt you- I pushed you. You came to me for help and look what I did.” Stan choked again, more tears escaping as his hand went back to his shoulder. “It still hurts, it still burns. I didn’t mean to start a fight, I didn’t mean to push you. How? How can you ever forgive me for that?”

And not for the first time that night everything fell into place and fell away from him all in one fell swoop.

Stan had remembered the portal incident.

Not only that, it had twisted itself into a nightmare.

The memories were bad enough in the daylight, surrounded by his family who could ease him back into reality and help him through the motions, talk through what he could and help other memories unlock without him having to bodily relive them.

But this, this was a nightmare that had twisted and curled and probably added features that never actually existed. Heightened it all, broke it all up, made it all his fault instead of a mix of the two.

At the time, even when he’d come home, he’d have blamed it all on Stan. But since Weirdmaggedon, since having to think how to explain all the memories should they ever come back for Stan it had become apparent that he’d played his part, he’d made his mistakes and the fall out had been just as much his doing as his brother’s.

And now? Now he knew that Stan’s mind was warping everything, knew he was seeing what Stan had felt just moments after he’d been left behind, not knowing what to do to get Ford back.

“Stan? Stan, it was just a nightmare, I promise it was just a nightmare.”

Ford pressed forward, slipping one of his hands over onto Stan’s back, right over the brand that set his teeth on edge and a lurch of regret through his stomach. The skin burned under his fingers, feverish from the nightmare he knew but somehow it sent more lancing pain through him as his mind stuttered. He pushed past it though, knowing his hand felt cold and soothing as Stan relaxed into him. “Does it still hurt?” Stan’s head shaking against his shoulder was a godsend. “See? It’s not- it’s not fresh, it happened years ago. You just had a nightmare.”

“How? How did you get home?”

Ford let out a pained noise, hating that Stan’s memories fluctuated and slipped in and out of focus like sand through an hourglass. Ever shifting and ever falling, unable to stay in a steady stream of information. “ _You_. You got me home.”

Stan laughed, a hollow ironic sound. “Yeah, right. Nice try. I’m not smart enough to get that portal working. You don’t have to lie to me, just… I need to know. How?”

It was Ford’s turn to choke, to wrap him up again even tighter in his arms and try to get the words out that couldn’t seem to make it passed his lips in one coherent sentence. “You. You did it. You got me back. You are that smart- you worked it all out and you got me home.” He took a steadying breath, hand going back to soothingly running through Stan’s hair. “I know it feels real but it was just a dream, you’ll remember more in the morning, I’m sure-”

“But it was real.” Stan pulled back, staring at him. “I did it, didn’t I? I hurt you. I pushed you and then you were _gone_ and there was nothing I could do.”

Ford’s hands went back to Stan’s face, anticipating the tears before they started to fall, wiping them as soon as they slipped. “And then you got me home again and then you saved the world. I know you didn’t mean to do it, we both made mistakes but everything will be alright from now on.”

“You keep saying that.” More tears fell than Ford could stop. “You all keep saying that I saved everyone but I don’t remember and I don’t get it and nothing makes sense. It’s like I’m watching a movie where none of the scenes join together, they just flit between past and present and I have no idea what any of it is meant to mean.” The words flooded out along with the tears, frustration clawing up his throat, laced with fear and remorse. “I keep making mistakes, all the time and things are good now but I don’t get how they can be. Because I never did anything right, I always messed up everything and nothing connects to how it all leads to here.”

“Stan-”

“ _No, please_.” Stan’s voice came out as a plea that made Ford give a strangled helpless whine. “Please, I-I can’t. This feels real, but so has everything else. I don’t know whether I’m coming or going. What’s real and what’s not and what happened years ago.” His eyes locked back to Ford’s forlornly, sad and accepting and so desperately, fearfully hopeful. “I want this to be real. I need it to be real. I’m so scared I’m going to wake up and this isn’t and you aren’t here.” His breathing hitched again, his voice cracking high and sharp. “Or the kids. One day I’m going to wake up and they won’t be here. I’ll wake up alone in that god awful basement with that broken portal staring accusingly at me and I won’t have got you back, and the kids won’t exist, and this place won’t feel like home and-”

Ford shushed him again, pulling him tight into another hug and rocking him slowly. “This is real, Stan. I promise it’s real.”

“Of course you’d say that.”

Ford couldn’t help but laugh at the sulky rebuttal, the grumpy desperately trying not to hope tone. “Yeah, well, I guess you’re right. But I have another way to prove it.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Ford carried on rocking him, trying not to let any of his own tears slip past at the notion that Stan thought all of this was too good to be true. As if they hadn’t fought so hard and long to get to this point now, because he couldn’t remember that part of it. Instead he focused on what he could do, smiling as softly as he could, resting his head on top of Stan’s. “You really think you could think up the kids?”

Stan paused, letting Ford rock him, as if the words had caught him short. And then he gave another hollow chuckle, nodding against Ford, his hands clenching in his coat. “You’re right, I’m not that imaginative either.”

“Stan-”

“No, it’s fine. It’s better than- they’re real, they’ve got to be real.” Stan relaxed against him, boneless and relieved but Ford hated how they had gotten to that point, with Stan putting himself down yet again.

“I dunno, you’re pretty damn imaginative. Have you seen some of the weird and wonderful creatures you made up for your tours?” Ford rolled his eyes at the snort that echoed, changing tack. “And you really did get me back. You really did restart the portal and bring me home. I know you don’t believe me but one day you’ll remember. And it won’t be… the reunion I know you’re hoping for but I promise one day all the memories will make sense.” His words quietened, not really meant to be heard. “And I’m sorry I can’t help you more.”

“Sorry? Why sorry?”

Ford closed his eyes, trying to figure out how to word his own spiralling thoughts. “I just am, sorry. Sorry I can’t just fix everything.” He couldn’t say it. Couldn’t say he’d taken all his memories from him, couldn’t say that he was scared to influence him, to twist the truth unintentionally so that Stan remembered things wrong.

He had to remember on his own. And Ford hated that when he promised they’d get through this all together.

“Well, that’s dumb. You’re not magic, Sixer.”

Ford choked out a laugh, coming back to his senses. “Heh, you say that. But if I find a magical cure all you bet I’ll be using it.”

Stan vibrated with laughter, chuckling away. “You always were such a nerd. How much research into this have you already done?”

“Not enough.” Ford sighed, grumbling good naturedly as Stan continued to giggle, slightly hysterically. “Otherwise I’d have found one by now.”

“And you call me a knucklehead.”

“You are a knucklehead.”

“Yeah but at least I’m not chasing after impossibilities.” Stan nudged him. “I’ll get there, right? With or without one?”

“Of course you will.”

“Then all I need is my family around me.”

Ford huffed, smiling more as Stan finally seemed to calm down properly, no hint of panic in sight that all of this was a dream. “Fair. I’ll remember that from now-”

“Grunkle Stan?”

The pair jolted, Stan sitting back to rest against the headboard, hands rubbing quickly at his face to try and get rid of the evidence of his weakness. The door had opened a crack, two sets of eyes peeking in but so far he was shielded by Ford from the door. “Kids? Is that- you should both be asleep.”

“We- uhm-”

“I woke you, didn’t I?” Stan hiccupped again, hands shakily still at his face, and Ford internally cursed for not telling the kids that everything was fine and pushing them gently back to bed. Stan wouldn’t want them to see him like this. “It’s nothing- I’m fine- not worth worrying over, just go back to-” His eyes went to Ford, pleading. “Please?”

Ford stood up, turning towards them with a hopefully reassuring expression. “Hey kids, sorry I didn’t come back out- everything’s alright. We’re all OK now.”

“Just a nightmare, nothing to worry about.”

“No such thing as just a nightmare.” The words fell out past Ford’s lips without hesitation, turning just enough to look at his brother, sparking back to an earlier time when Stan had said the same to him.

Stan seemed to falter at the words, eyebrows scrunching as he glanced up at Ford, as if the sentence was familiar.

Ford couldn’t help the budding hope that fizzled up at the look.

“But we _are_ all OK now, you two should go to sleep.”

“But-” Mabel pushed forward a little bit, hesitating when Stan gave a noise of protest. “We heard… do you…” She gulped, eyes on the floor as she spoke, as if scared of the response.

“Do you really think we’re not real?”

Stan choked, closing his eyes as he looked up at the ceiling. “I don’t- I want to believe. I really do. It’s just so hard. One day I’m down in the basement all alone, the next I’m here with you three, the next I’m in my car in the middle of nowhere with no destination in sight.” Stan frowned and Ford’s heart raced at his next words. “Other times nothing makes sense at all and the sky’s the wrong colour and it looks like it’s falling apart and I have no idea where any of you are.” He blinked, glancing down at Mabel with a wistful smile. “Then other times, it’s us three but there’s no Ford, and we’re running away from zombies and dinosaurs or we’re falling down and down into darkness but we don’t seem phased at all and… it’s just… it’s so amazing but so unbelievable, you know?”

“That’s what makes it real, Grunkle Stan!” Mabel darted forward, slipping past Ford without much preamble as Dipper skirted around the other side.

“Now, kids-”

“Yeah! You can’t – life’s too strange to think up! It just happens!” Dipper scrambled up first, both of them in quick succession latching on to Stan’s sides.

“What Dipper said! And I never believed him until this summer either.” Mabel propped herself up, eyes determined. “Like Grunkle Ford said, this is really _really_ real!”

“I’m not entirely sure I said it like that.”

“Well, it needed some Mabel flair.”

“Heh, don’t we all.”

Mabel beamed as Stan chuckled, ruffling her hair.

“I really don’t think I could think you two up.”

“Good. Cause we’re not going anywhere.”

Stan sniffled, bundling them close. “ _Good_.” He shook himself, relaxing his grip a few seconds later as he coughed. “You should be asleep though.”

“Do you want us to leave?”

“ _No_.” The word slipped out unwittingly as annoyed as his expression was for admitting it. “But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t.”

“Yeah, well, then that’s not happening.”

“Why don’t we stay here until you fall back to sleep?” Ford sat back down on the edge of the bed, near enough for them to reach but far enough away that they could all settle down if needed.

Stan’s face dropped, his head shaking vehemently. “No. No, that’s- that’s worse. I don’t want to sleep.” He seemed to forget the kids were there as his eyes locked again with Ford’s, willing him to understand. “I can’t- what if I wake up and you’re all gone-”

“OK, OK, no sleep, it is.” Ford shuffled closer. “I promise you we won’t, we’ll be right here when you wake up but I’m not going to make you do anything you don’t want to.” He waited until Stan relaxed again before turning back to the kids. “How about we all have a sleepover? People don’t actually sleep at those, do they? Or has that changed in this dimension?”

“Late night movies!” Mabel jumped up, tugging at Stan’s hand a few times to get him moving before dragging Dipper up properly and racing to the door. “Come on, Dipper, let’s see what’s on!”

“Oh! We can watch Ducktective otherwise, that’s good for late night binges! Or- did you find that Duchess movie in the end?”

The pair vanished through the door, both loud enough that Stan didn’t mind losing sight of them, knowing they were still there just barely out of sight.

His mind was elsewhere though as he stood, almost weak with relief that they were happy to indulge him and not leave him to it, no matter how much he knew they should.

He turned to Ford who was still sitting down, a bemused smile on his face as he stared at the door where the kids had been a moment before. He reached a hand out towards Ford, pausing as his thoughts became sidetracked.

“Stan?”

Ford tilted his head as Stan seemed to come back to the present, staring at his own hand in perplexity.

“Have we… done this before?”

A flash of Stan offering to watch movies with him to dispel the nightmares drifted before him, his smile growing as he took Stan’s hand. “Yeah. Yeah, we have. It seems to be the universal conclusion to combating nightmares.”

Stan blinked back at him a few more times before grinning away and tugging him up.

“Sounds like a good decision to me. It’s worked out well for us before.”

Ford smiled, remembering just how the drone of the TV and the steady presence of someone else beside him had made the last dregs of the nightmare fall away to nothingness. He hoped beyond hope that Stan remembered just how much he had helped him that night, he needed him to start remembering those moments, the good ones where things had been peaceful and warm between them. Even If they were few and far between. He clapped his hand on Stan’s back, pulling him into a one armed hug before pushing him forward.

“You know we’ll get there, Stan, don’t you? Because I promise we’ll get there. Together. Because I’m not going anywhere.”

“That’s all I can ask for, Sixer.”

**Author's Note:**

> AN: I hope this was good! It’s been in my notes for a long time and this felt like the perfect time to do it. There’ll be another pressie at some point, this just got... a lot longer than expected


End file.
